


is not the prince like other men

by imperiatrix



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, implicit kink negotiation that is still somehow PG, wholesome discussion of begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22153666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperiatrix/pseuds/imperiatrix
Summary: The first thing Marcus ever did for Esca was beg.
Relationships: Marcus Flavius Aquila/Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	is not the prince like other men

"No, but Romans don't beg?" Esca says, like he believes it. 

He's wrong, of course. Esca is clever, but his memory is short where Marcus' is a long shadow. The first thing Marcus ever did for Esca was beg. He had begged on his feet when begging on his knees would not suffice, pleaded for Esca's life and made a spectacle of himself before all of Calleva, if he had not already been one. 

He had begged Esca to take the golden eagle across the wall without him, so he might die with his honor if not his dignity. 

If he had not begged since then it was only because he did not have to. Esca enjoyed taunting him, but he was kind. He never took more than Marcus was willing to give him, and so Marcus gave and gave without fear. Often, without ever being asked. 

It had not occurred to him that Esca enjoyed the asking. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say that he enjoyed hearing Marcus say “yes.”

"Come here," he gestures idly towards himself, the couch upon which he reclines without the ease reclining usually implies. "I'm not going to torture you."

"For you, the Brigantine, I mean," Marcus began, unsure precisely of how to ask what he was asking, but sure he wanted to ask it, "did princes--"

"I wasn't a prince." Esca interrupts. His mouth twists. Marcus knows that Esca cannot decide if he enjoys or dreads these questions about his past--it is gone, but it was pleasant, and maybe not so pleasant to remember. It is gone. 

"A chieftain's son, then. Did you have to--was it dishonorable, or, um, not expected of you?"

"Marcus, I have no idea what you're trying to say.”

"Asking. Begging, like you said."

Esca snorts. He looks at least more comfortable than before, which puts Marcus at ease. 

"Esca the chieftain's son would not have, but Esca your friend will--if you ask it of him." Esca grins at his own wit, the joke mostly for his own sake.

Marcus puts a hand on the couch, levering himself gently onto the ground. He drops his head onto the cushions by Esca's thigh, and as if by instinct one of Esca's hands settles at the curve of his neck. "I won't," Marcus says, and he can feel Esca's surprise in the slight tense of his hand and wrist. "For the sake of the chieftain's son."

Esca strokes up his cheek and sighs. "I am not him."

Marcus isn't sure what to say, so he turns his face to kiss Esca's palm, and then simply to breathe against it. "You are," he replies at last. "You are."

At length, Esca picks his head up from the bedding to press his forehead on Marcus' back. 

"I'm terribly indulgent of you, Marcus." 

Marcus hums in response, shifting back towards the gentle hand on his jaw and the cold breath on his shoulder blades. "I don't want to make you beg. I don't like denying you anything. I can't enjoy it." Esca laughs bitterly. "I would give you anything. It would please me to. Nothing would please me more."

Marcus closes his eyes, overwhelmed. He thinks he might feel a tear on his cheek and he dabs it quickly into the bedding. But what does it matter, he thinks, when he feels another. What does it matter? 

He is happy, and Esca might mock him for his sentimentality but he would not see it as a sign of weakness. And Marcus realizes that this is what Esca has given him--he does not see it as weakness, either. He brings Esca's hand from his neck to his lips and kisses the back of it, as he might for the emperor. "You are a merciful and benevolent prince, my Esca."

Esca snorts, an ungraceful plosive sound. "I'm not a prince."

"Fine, then," Marcus obliges, "a chieftain's son."


End file.
